The Rurus - Adventure Before Dementia

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Month: December 2013

CAMP CHIT CHAT AT THE CAMP URINAL … NO DICKING AROUND!

Christmas day is always a day that for some reason lets the disciplines evaporate and allow for binge consumption of food and beverage to be entertained.  This one was no exception.  Hydration too was paramount under the blazing yellow ball up in the sky as the mercury started to rise and being given a carton of Stella Artois stubbies as a gift didn’t help matters neither!

What happened to handkerchiefs and ‘Blue Stratus’ after shave lotion as presents from your local pharmacy like yesteryear?

Cameron and LClaire arrived for brunch mid-morning to kick start the festivities and the juice of choice to wash down the ham and cheese filled croissant was a beer.  Everyone was conscious that not pacing oneself would result in some kind of drunk and disorderly behaviour quicker than planned, however, the temptation to say, “oh bugger it, it’s Christmas Day and I’ve earnt it” led into a second ale, then another.

DSC09009BClaire’s clan arrived for the main course of the day, bar-b-q chicken and potato salad; coleslaw and shaved ham on a bone.  Dessert was just as easy with strawberries and ice cream.  Beers took a back seat position as bubbles were corked, poured and glasses raised to salute peace on earth and goodwill to mankind.  By now the weather had done a complete one eighty with grey clouds shedding tears of joy.  The sides of the gazebo were affixed to protect from the elements and one by one, the party of revellers dispersed leaving four of us to continue on … or drink more if you didn’t get the gist of it.  I would also imagine that the same story would have played out across the lands not too dissimilar to ours.

Beer turned to red wine and red wine turned to Jamaican Rum interrupted by a cup of tea before positioning the body into the sleep position.  With two extra’s in the caravan staying over, it didn’t take long for the air to become stale and the feeling of uneasiness from a gut full of liquids to remind me of how weak I was not to keep the discipline of drinking in moderation versus binge.

At some ungodly hour, BClaire successfully navigated her way over to the toilet ablutions to be sick, why she just didn’t stick her head out of the awning door to chuck and let the bird life feast on it in the morning, who knows!  I too contemplated such when I went looking for her but didn’t and that was the mistake I made.  Like a barrel being tossed around in an ocean storm, my barrel was getting swirled around from the tossing and turning at trying to get comfortable so as not to puke.

Before I knew it, birds started singing and I had wondered if at all I had been to sleep.  I wasn’t hung over as such, more the soak pit sloth feeling, life around the camp on this new day would be a long one I was thinking.  Venturing wearily over to the ablutions again and standing at the urinals just minding my own business, doing my business – this three year old stepped up onto the step and went about his, business.

Catching him looking up at me, I returned the smile to hear him say, “I spewed last night.”

Shit, how much alcohol did he drink?

Camp chit chat at the camp urinals … no dicking around!

CATCHING A NEIGHBOUR RED FOOTED DOING GRAFFITI

At present, we are Brent and Claire Ruru ‘no friends’ or to be more exact, ‘no neighbours.’

Brent & Claire No FriendsOur caravan backs onto a fence line of poplar trees and outwards onto adjacent camping ground which for most part of the year lies empty and open.

Up until two weeks ago, we had semi-permanent neighbours either side of us however, they had to vacate their sites in readiness for the Christmas Holiday festive season campers due out in the coming week or so.  Our solitude, peace and tranquillity is going to become one of cohabitation, tent city and population growth to full capacity with the hope of befriending some during their stay.

Through the poplar tree fence line live a bunch of folk like us who also reside in caravans, approximately 20 abodes in all.  Of course, we are friends with a number of them and are often the butt of jokes to get ridiculed about being smelly neighbours and hence, no neighbours.  Either that, or we are classed as over-stayers because we negotiated with camp welfare to be allowed to stay on our site indefinitely.

Our site is large enough to park our car on it, however, for most of the time  we have tended to park it on the opposite side of the road in a spot that will soon be the earth of a holiday camper.  In jest, I made the remark to a tree line neighbour that we should get a disability car park sign painted on the ground (no offence) to reserve the current spot and be able to park our car there during the coming busy time as a joke.  Let’s face it, everyone  keeps reminding BClaire that she married someone with some kind of disability!

Disabled Car ParkTo wake up and unzip the awning door the next morning and see someone had in fact painted a red square around our car in dye overnight was quite entertaining.  Even more hilarious was that the culprit dyed the grass in jandals or flip flops and therefore, coloured his feet the same coloured dye meaning that he was caught red footed as being the guilty one for doing the graffiti!

It’s been five days since the episode and we have naturally continued to park inside the square on arriving home as a habit.

‘Wayne’ the neighbour has worn knee high socks since then also.

Caught Red FootedSome friend after all, thank god he’s not our immediate next door neighbour!

LAUGHING AT US IS ENCOURAGED … HELL, WE DO!

“Kia Ora” and “Haere Mai”.

When translated, they mean “Greetings” and “Welcome”.

Welcome to our blog.

At the time of scripting this first blog post, we reside back on our home turf in Christchurch, New Zealand.

DSC08905‘Turf’ is the most appropriate word to describe where our feet are firmly placed because we in-fact live in a caravan on a square patch of dirt at Spencer Beach Holiday Park in Christchurch, New Zealand.  And this is by choice.

During 2011 after exiting our life in Dubai, we travelled through Turkey, Spain and East Africa before returning home.  During our travels through Spain, we conjured up this adventure of living in a tent on our return and so we did!

It lasted seven weeks waiting for Summer to arrive, that didn’t!  The continuous noise of wind that sounded like 40,000 ducks from the reserve across the road flapping their wings inside our tent; the rain whereby it sounded like the ducks hovered over the tent ‘shitting’ and frequent water levels lapping electrical cords connected to the mains motivated us to make a decision to upgrade from canvas and invest in something more permanent – a caravan!

S0035224We lived a year in our new abode before we ventured off again to spend another seven months travelling during 2012/2013, this time to Borneo, Vietnam, Thailand, Laos, Myanmar and lastly Nepal.  Our return had us haul our caravan abode out of storage and residing back on our home turf  ‘piece of dirt’.  We have been on terra-firma now for just on seven and a half months.

Many a folk think we are crazy for choosing the caravan way of life over the suburbia approach, however, to gain a greater perspective of our state of mind, we’d like to share our back story that featured in the online EPICMENTORS e-MAGAZINE, November 2013.

Click to read:http://issuu.com/epicmentors/docs/issue_31?e=3328716%2F579

I’m confident that as you read, you will gain a greater perspective into what the Ruru’s are all about pretty much up to this point in time because by 2015, we start the journey to visit every single one of our friends in person on our face book page where ever they are located on the planet to share a glass of wine or beer or cup or tea or coffee.

ISCW3 301013It therefore means that the blog will initially reflect our ‘living in a caravan’ lifestyle at Spencer Beach Holiday Park to eventually migrate into journaling our travel goal adventures.

We live on the same planet as you but perhaps in a different world.  Join us as Ruru escapades are weaved to share stories that entertain – from our piece of dirt/turf.

Laughing at us is encouraged … hell, we do!